


Jump Start

by Aurora Cee (SC182)



Series: Hit and Hustle [2]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, Knockaround Guys (2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Happy Ending, Introspection, M/M, Road Trips, Romance, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/Aurora%20Cee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is life for the guys in Boston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump Start

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own the characters herein. They are the property of Universal Pictures and 20th Century Fox, Justin Lin, Rob Cohen, and Gary S. Thompson. I'm just borrowing them for a moment.
> 
> Repost from 2007.
> 
> A/N: This is an old AU that crosses diverges prior to the events of TFATF( Brian/Paul Walker) and Knockaround Guys (Taylor/ Vin Diesel). There are two more stories in this series and they are complete.

They didn’t go very far, just out of the tri-state area, which for guys like them was essentially the equivalent of entering No Man’s Land. Not a long drive to Boston, just awkward. Literally, sandwiched between his best friend and Brian, who for lack of a better word, was his boyfriend. Taylor would have thought all of it was dream if it wasn’t for the constant throb of pain up shoulder.  
  
Matty drove while Brian sat in the back and woke up Taylor every so often to take something for the pain. Taylor didn’t say much, only grunted in a thanks as a reply. As the van rolled on, Taylor heard whispers of conversations floating just out of reach in his dreams. Matty’s clipped tone brought Brian up to speed on what happened with Scarpa and Marbles. There was silence afterwards, nothing but the sound of the van’s engine as it ate up the road. His dreams came fitfully then, almost hallucinogenic, but when Brian spoke—his voice overriding the gnawing ache, Taylor would dream of open skies the color of Brian’s eyes and the freedom that came with never-ending space. It felt like Mexico and he sped through it as if it was that infamous quarter mile Brian was always talking about with stars in his eyes.  
  
Somewhere outside of Boston, he finally woke up, fed up with their gabbing, and bellowed, because he didn’t moan. “Will you two quiet down for five minutes?” He covered his eyes from the afternoon sun. " 'm tryin' to heal back here."  
  
Matty’s eyes laughed at him from the rear-view mirror. “What’s the matter, Big Guy?” Matty’s crooked smirk became a full on grin as he cut his eyes between Taylor and the road. “You in pain, man?”  
  
Taylor’s head rolled to the side. “Naw, just in need of you two to stop chatterin' like my ma and the old ladies on the block.”  
  
A tap on his shoulder, he arched his head backward and his eyes connected with Brian, who was giving him his next dose of wonderfully codeine coated pain relievers. “Take these.”  
  
He swallowed them dry and resumed scowling at the world. “I know what it is?” Matty answered. His voice way too sunny for Taylor’s liking.  
  
“What?” Brian asked, flicking his gaze over at Matty.  
  
Matty’s eyes reached Brian’s through the rear-view mirror. “You know Taylor’s a possessive guy. He’s been sleeping most of the trip, but he still wants to keep you to himself. Don’t worry, man, I won’t take'm.” Matty teased with the most lightness in his tone since the trip started. “Not my type,” he reassured.  
  
Taylor rolled his dark eyes. Knowing that history proved Matty was full of shit. “Naw, that’s what you always say. Just look at Shelli Bonasera from 10th grade…You clearly stole her. Left me high and dry for the Sade Hawkins Day dance like a sucka.”  
  
“What can I say?” Matty popped his collar. “She had good taste.”  
  
Taylor turned slightly in his chair when he felt Brian’s hand land on his shoulder. His blue eyes were shining warmly. “I never knew Shelli, but I’m sticking around until you come through with that promise.” He smiled Matty's way. "He ain't competition."  
  
Matty howled as he drove. “Promised the man a date? You gotta make it special, T.” Matty was too into their relationship for Taylor’s liking. With the way he was feeling and the stark surreality of the situation, he’d rather--as shitty as it sounded-- the melancholy Matty to the hyper-talkative one right about now.  
  
He finally resigned himself to having sun in his eyes. “Don’t you worry about our date, okay? Just drive my van--and not into a river!”  
  
Brian’s long fingers caressed Taylor’s head, skirting around the bruises expertly and siphoning out the annoyance almost immediately. His breath tickled the shell of Taylor's ear. “If you don’t quit bitchin', you’ll have to come in the back with me.” The whisper was more of a purr, a nice raspy sound that lit a fire from the small of his back up to the top of his head, giving him a sudden case of  head rush.  
  
“I guess I’ll have to continue being a pain in the ass.” Said Taylor with deadpan delivery.  
  
The cough that came from the driver’s seat was also accompanied by rolling eyes and a less than amused expression. “C'mon, you guys. I gotta drive here, but I promise you’ll get sick from your kissy face footsie crap. You got shot. You need rest. Kisses don't heal bullet wounds.”  
  
Taylor whipped his head around. “Just drive.”  
  
“Will do, if you stop flirting.” Matty returned.  
  
Brian snickered in the backseat, lazily sprawled beside Taylor. “I--” He patted Taylor’s good shoulder. “We’ll be good.”  
  
This was how they reached Boston.

* * *

  
  
Normal. It should have been on the back of the front door. The last thing they saw before they went out into the world.  
  
In Boston, they tried to be normal people. Matty tried again; his dream to be a sports agent actually progressed. Brian worked with cars like he was always supposed to.

In Boston, Taylor had to figure out what to make of himself. Matty always had his own dream. Brian had more than decent skills under a hood, so where did that leave him? This wasn’t one of those instances when having your reputation precede you worked in your favor. He wouldn’t be going back to his old life of hustling and fighting.  
  
He wasn’t like them. Brian found his spot in a garage full of roughnecks. He was weary of those rough and tumble grease monkey types—guys a lot like him around Brian, but somehow Brian fit in like he always did. Taylor knew Brian wasn’t a fragile thing; someone not to be gentled and coddled, but damn if he didn’t want to. Brian—Bri was a knockaround guy by life, too.  
  
Taylor needed only to find his place in the world. Up until now, it had always been proscribed. Now, he was just drifting. Being real for the first time.  
  
It wasn’t a matter of how the guys in the garage found out the score between them, it was rather an issue of when. Brian never said how they found out; Taylor simply remembered walking in feeling the tingle of situational awareness that the guys _knew_. The guys at the shop never ragged on Brian for having a boyfriend. They did rag on him for allowing his _beau_ , as they titled him, to drive such a piece of crap that was just embarrassing.  
  
Life was incredibly normal: breakfasts, work, groceries, TV, and sleep. For Taylor and Brian, there was also sex after Taylor’s shoulder was partially healed up.  
  
So, he set about getting his life together. First, he did the docks, then the slaughterhouse. Taylor actually began to think about going back to installing his machines. That was before he heard the distinct sound of fists hitting a punching bag and the pitter-patter of sweeping feet on a mat.  
  
Walking inside the gym, his stomach fizzed and his chest became tight. It was a feeling all too reminiscent of the first time he laid eyes on Brian. Like a feeling of rightness.  
  
Then, there was a man beside him—Jones; he stood with the grace of a fighter and watched Taylor gaze around the gym. He should have seen the answer just by looking at his fist.  
  
Here he was the man who’d been in more street fights than anyone could count teaching kids how to fight.  
  
Taylor was fighter after all. Fighting was the only skill he'd been schooled in and certified by the streets. Who else would be more qualified to teach a group of ankle-biters about fighting--street or ring than him? So Taylor accepted Jones's offer and finally found his place in Boston.

The downside of the job was that it skirted him around the edges of familiar life he'd left behind in New York.  
  
The thing about heading to a new city was that the _game_ —the racket, whatever you wanted to call it--was well entrenched already. There was pretty much nothing new you could show anyone at this point. Just a matter of not getting snagged by those rough edges and pulled back in.

* * *

  
So their lives in Boston became as close to normal as they could be for three men living together; two of which slept together every night. There was breakfast every morning, which Brian usually cooked or sometimes Matty, because all of them knew Taylor couldn’t cook for shit. The guy might've been good at doing a shitload of things, but making scrambled eggs was like brain surgery degree of difficulty when Taylor tried.  
  
During the day, there was work: Brian went to the garage, Taylor to the gym, and Matty seemed to have settled nicely into BU’s Sports Management program which gave Taylor and Brian plenty to laugh at with his stories of slaving away as a lowly intern in a sport rep conglomerate's mail room.

Matty took it all in stride, mostly, because he’d picked up about half of the phone numbers from his hot female classmates in the seminar.  
  
Their lives were as normal as could be expected. It wasn’t like living in Boston or Brian living with them had allowed Taylor or Matty to forget about Scarpa and Marbles. There were moments when Matty and Taylor could only acknowledge how much they missed the other two with a prolonged gaze that spoke volumes. Brian didn’t say anything then; he simply rubbed his fingers over the places his own scars lay hidden.  
  
This plain existence lasted all of eight months before some Boston guy made them for Benny Chains’ son and crew.  
  
That was how Benny found them. He knocked on the door, which Brian answered thinking the person on the other side was the pizza man. Reason enough for him to shamble over to the door without a shirt with jeans partially unzipped. The shower was running in their bathroom and Taylor was waiting for him in their room, so that they could get the day’s grime off together.  
  
Seeing Benny at the door in his signature glasses and sweat suit made that happy little shower slip away from Taylor’s immediate concern as did the look of resignation that crossed Matty’s face when he came back from class to find his dad and one of his intermediate flunkies sitting on their couch with Taylor scowling like it was his mission in life.  
  
Benny threw his hands up when Matty entered the door. “It’s my boy!” He smothered his son with the level of enthusiasm that Matty had been seeking for years.  
  
Matty remained by the door, looked at the bizarre picture of his dad on their couch with Sal the Man sitting across from Brian, staring into those big blue eyes talking about classic cars. “Hey Pop,” he replied an uncertain second later.  
  
It was like being in the damn Twilight Zone.  
  
Benny stood up and made a show of embracing his son. “Me and Sal were just catching up with Taylor and your friend.” He pulled back to look Matty over. “You look good, kid. Seems like Bean Town is being pretty good to you.”  
  
The hug was half-heartedly returned. “Same to you.” Taylor stood up from his chair by the couch and offered it to Matty with a silent tilt of his head. He left the room and returned with one of the kitchen chairs. He wedged himself in the space between the Matty’s leather chair and the side of the couch where Brian sat. Straddling the chair, he looked ready for anything.  
  
“What can I do for you, Pops?” Matty finally asked. Benny, like Teddy, never did anything out of the goodness of his heart. Not even for family.  
  
Benny folded his fingers together. Had the audacity to look mildly affronted.“Didn’t think you were serious when you said you guys were done.” He shrugged. “Figured leaving town was given. Sorry about Scarpa and Marbles--”  
  
“Pops.” Matty interrupted.  
  
Benny held up a placating hand. “They were good boys. They had a good service at St. Michael’s.”  
  
To this, neither Matty nor Taylor said a word. So Benny continued. “It finally dawned on me that you guys weren’t coming back after a week. I checked your place a couple of times and I even went to see Taylor’s mother.”  
  
Taylor didn’t so much as crack a smile, just ducked his head a little. Matty and Brian seemed to have a problem holding it in. “ How’s she doing?” Matty asked.  
  
“Word of advice,” Benny chuckled. “I’d call that lady ASAP. She’s ready to jump off her chain and find you. Also told me to tell you to quit smoking if you hadn’t.”  
  
Brian elbowed Taylor’s knee and gave him a look, which was code for _stop being an asshole_. “I’ll give her a call.”  
  
“The reason I’m here, boys, is more along the lines of business.” Matty’s face turned sour at the idea. “Wait, hear me out...” Benny gestured with a dictatorial finger. “Here’s the thing: all this stuff with Teddy made me realize that in a business like mine, it’s important to surround yourself with people you can trust.”  
  
Sal, who looked like a Tony Soprano wannabe, actually looked offended. “Benny--”  
  
“No offense,” Benny conceded. “Teddy was family and he betrayed not just me, but you,” he pointed at Matty and Taylor. “And killed boys that I loved as much as sons.”  
  
He let the point settle in. “It’s not easy for me to admit I’ve been a foolish man, considering all the time I spent in the slam; you’d think I’d be better about being truthful with myself. I’ve always been able to trust Matty, and you too, Taylor. Never had a doubt where your loyalties lie. It’s not your fault—what happened out in bumfuck. Teddy was a shifty bastard.”  
  
Benny leaned closer to the edge of the couch and distilled the conversation down to an eye to eye stare off with his son. “You’ve always wanted to be there for me. I pushed you away; for that, I’m _sorry_. I want you guys to come back.” He cast an eye at Brian. “I don’t even know you, but it seems that if you’re good enough to be staying here with them, then you must be good people to have around.”  
  
Brian flashed his million dollar grin. “Um…thanks.”  
  
“What I do is a family business and I want to truly make it that way.” Benny took a breath and leveled Matty with a proud paternal smile. “I want you guys to be my guys, so come on home already.”  
  
Taylor looked to Matty in a sidelong glance. He wanted Matty to say _no_ clear and unequivocally _no_. Matty pinched the bridge of his nose. Benny was Matty’s kryptonite, but Taylor hoped—damn it, prayed, that Matty wouldn’t go back to the man.  
  
Matty knew exactly what Taylor was thinking. He licked his lips then pursed them—that was his tell. It was a good one though. “Can you promise that it will stay legit? Honestly, swearing on my mother’s grave, can you?”  
  
 Without pausing for an answer, Matty stood and began pacing the floor. “We got a good set up here. Everything’s legit and legal. We work like everybody else and it’s alright.”  
  
Taylor could tell just by looking at Benny that he was already shuffling through his bullshit words to wrangle Matty back around. His body betrayed him. His face was too open. “Heh, Matty, we have to do whateva we gotta do to keep business going. So I'm not gonna make you promises that cannot be kept. I _can_ promise that I will trust you, because you're my son and have only tried to look out for me better than I deserve.”  
  
“What are you saying?”  
  
Benny moved to intercept his son, place his hands on Matty’s shoulders and lock eyes with him. “Again, I’m saying that I can’t make any promises about--” He looked at Brian on the couch. “ _Things_.” He enunciated pointedly.  
  
He was offering Matty his unique brand of penance for being such an awful father. Matty shook his head and began to withdraw from his father’s hold. “I can’t speak for T—”  
  
“Yeah, you can,” Taylor corrected, keeping his gaze squarely trained on Sal then Benny.  
  
Matty turned back to his father. “Life’s kinda sweet up here. I don’t think …” He paused. “We can’t go back, Pops. I’m sorry.” He said finally.  
  
Taylor expected to have to jump off his chair, because Benny Chains didn’t handle rejection well. Instead, the old man looked contrite and disappointed. “I’m the stupid one for letting you guys slip away…” He regarded the three young men silently, then turned to Matty again. “Alright come here.” He kissed Matty’s forehead and the top of head.  
  
His business there was done.  
  
“You too, Taylor. Get your big bald ass over here.” He didn’t begrudge the man a hug. He shook Brian’s hand. Taylor doubted Benny would have hugged or shaken their hands if he knew the score. “If you boys need anything, fuck, even get tired of Bean Town,” he chuckled. “Change your minds…Give me a call.”  
  
Benny didn’t say anymore, just signaled to Sal and headed to the door. “Pops.” Matty gave his father that wounded hangdog look that only Benny could cause.  
  
Sal walked through the door first, asking Brian to call him if a classic GTO ever came through the garage. Brian promised in kind. Benny, though, flashed a two finger salute and offered, “Like I said, give me a call if you need anything.”  
  
There was a beatific smile on the man’s face and nothing more. Taylor knew he was asking the universe for too much for Benny to tell Matty he loved him just once.  
  
Benny Chains paying them a visit had all the ingredients for an emotional clusterfuck. Seeing Benny put Taylor's back up. Made him antsy and cagey, of course he went into silent mode, all dark and solemn like a cavern.  
  
It lasted about a day and half before Brian pointedly turned to Taylor after pouring them each a cup of coffee and said, “Cut that shit out.” Matty actually dropped his eggs from his fork. Brian’s outburst brought Taylor and Matty back to a sense of normalcy. If they acted like they were in mourning, it was for past that was well buried and finally salted.  
  
Silence followed as Brian waited for them to catch up.  
  
Brian looked at Taylor, who looked back at Brian, before Brian looked over at Matty. The bubble of silence broke as Matty began to laugh, the type of laugh that was rare, full of foot stamping and a knee slap or two. “I like ‘im.” He said between guffaws, nudging at Brian with his chin.  
  
“Me too.” Taylor ‘s voice rolled as he watched Brian lean against the counter staring back at him without repentance.  
  
Taylor reached for him, pulled Brian close into a kiss that didn’t leave any doubt about what the score was between them. He’d never kissed Brian before with Matty in the room. Though what he did with his big rough hands gripping Brian’s waist, rucking up Brian’s plain white t-shirt, was more like making love to his mouth with strong broad strokes of his tongue.  
  
His cheeks were red afterwards and Taylor’s thick lips were shiny and pink. “I’ll try not to be an asshole.”  
  
Brian cocked a brow, ran a hand along the muscled lines of Taylor’s sides and back, and leaned into him. “And I won't call you one when you're not.”  
  
Matty coughed, then cleared his throat loudly. “Yeah, um…wow,” he muttered as he dropped his plate in the sink. “Like fuckin' Ozzie and Harriet,” he threw over his shoulder.  
  
“I heard that!” Taylor yelled back.  
  
Matty crossed the apartment. “Good, make up or whatever, just spare my eyes by the time I come back.” They heard the sound of the front door opening. “Tell Harriet, his eggs and coffee don’t suck.”  
  
Brian smirked against Taylor's lips. “Fuck you, too, Matty.”  
  
“Naw, I don’t think Taylor would go for that.” Matty retorted playfully.  
  
There was laughter on both sides of the door when it closed.  
  
Taylor’s arms were still slung around Brian’s waist and his fingers were knotted behind Brian’s back keeping him close. The set-up with the two of them standing in the kitchen, so closely together, was very intimate.  
  
“What do you wanna do?” Brian asked. “ Cuz I’m down for whatever.”  
  
Taylor held Brian’s too blue gaze and still felt relief that Brian had decided to come with him. “I don’t know, gotta think.”  
  
Brian tilted his head back, his eyes searched Taylor’s face. “ I’ve done the trouble thing already. Wouldn’t recommend it if I had to.” This time Taylor looked at Brian questioningly. “ Yeah, just…you and me, right?”  
  
Taylor’s second kiss was soft—sweet even, just the merging of a pair of hot lips and a pinch of possessiveness in a gentle sweep of tongue. “You don’t have to question some things…It’s not every day that I invite someone to move outta the City with me just for a date.”  
  
Brian ran his long fingers over the short sprouts of dark fuzz that covered Taylor’s scalp. “I’m still waiting for the date, by the way.” He mock-scolded. “I just like knowing where we stand. Now, I gotta get out of here. Gotta sweet ride coming in today. The owner’s talking about extensive mods, so this might be the start of a beautiful relationship.”  
  
Taylor knew next to squat about cars. “Yeah, not too close,” he muttered below his breath.  
  
Brian heard the last bit, grinned knowingly, which caused a spark to light low in Taylor’s belly. If they got started now, then both of them would be seriously late and Matty might never be able to eat in the kitchen again. “You can think about where we’ll go in the meantime.” Brian dove in for a last kiss. His lips hovered inches away from Taylor’s. “And before I forget, call your mother.”  
  
  At that last bit, Taylor laughed.

* * *

  
There were several things Taylor Reese didn’t do: be jealous was one of them.  
  
He was simply careful with the things he considered his. Like his friends, of course; he was possessive of Matty: look what happened when he let his guard down back in Montana, which was justification enough for staying close.  
  
But he had that look, the one that made others gravitate towards him. Very few underestimated him, thinking he was the big dumb type. He’d proved them wrong very quickly and they’d changed their minds accordingly.  
  
The Skyline joined them in Boston, because Roman Pearce drove it there. Fresh out of the pen and off his parole leash, he was making his way cross country to finally see Brian again. A couple of days before he got there, Taylor swooped in and dragged Brian out of the City for good. Rome didn’t have any problems locating the car, just driving in New York traffic. He called bitching and moaning to Brian enough to give Taylor and Matty headaches.  
  
When he got to Boston, it seemed like Rome couldn’t take his eyes off of Brian for about twenty minutes. Nor could he let go. When Brian finally pulled away to make introductions, it was like a clash of junkyard dogs.  
  
Roman Pearce wasn’t at all what Taylor had expected. Midnight black skin, covered in tattoos, with fox-slanted eyes set on a model-handsome face. “Rome, this is Taylor.” The tick in Rome’s jaw was as apparent as the chip on his shoulder.  
  
“And Taylor, this is my boy, Roman Pearce.” Taylor rolled his shoulders in such a way that made his muscles bulge even more. He stood stoic like a stone, only nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
“Jeez, Bri, you don’t have to give him all my intel.” Rome remarked sarcastically, still holding Taylor’s gaze.  
  
Brian slugged Rome in the arm. “I’ll turn the hose on you two, if you continue to act like assholes,cuz.” It was eerie how the two shrugged almost simultaneously in quiet nonchalance.  
  
Rome was much cooler with Matty. More or less, the stand-off between Rome and Taylor had to do with each believing they were the alpha superior in Brian’s life. Which truthfully was bullshit as Brian ruled over both of them without even trying. Brian treated them to drinks, plied Rome and Taylor with enough to get them thoroughly shitfaced and allowed them to go at it outside their building. Brian hadn’t been kidding; he really did turn the hose on them.  
  
Now, the pair acknowledged the other with stony mutual respect.  
  
With Rome in town with the Skyline, it wasn’t long before Brian actually found a real racing circuit. He won the first time he raced, as did Rome driving the Skyline. Didn’t do it often, but every time Brian raced, he won. As a ritual, the first thing he did afterwards was flash one of those megawatt smiles at Taylor. It made the ladies go just a little crazy and guys hate him just a bit more. Less than a handful knew that smile was for Taylor.  
  
He would throw a proprietary arm around Brian’s shoulder and quirked an eyebrow at anyone who wanted to complain. Funny thing about that, no one ever did. Matty even came to a few. Watching Brian kick so much ass prompted him to ask if Brian had ever thought about going pro.  
  
The one time he did, they shared a little laugh at the mention of _pro_.  
  
“Seriously, have you thought about it?” Taylor prodded.  
  
Brian smiled that little grin that said he wasn’t as transparent as ice like people thought at first glance. “It’s one of those dreams you have, like, when someone wants to touch the stars or reach Jupiter. It’s a dream and you don’t give up on it, just substitute it for something more real.”  
  
Taylor slung an arm around his shoulders. “You’re a kickass driver. If I was planning a heist, I’d hire you.”  
  
Brian made of show of squeezing Taylor back and kissed the side of Taylor’s head. “I told you you’re a nice guy.”  
  
Professional driving, like being a cop, was out of Brian’s future. No, Brian was satisfied being the best at something that was strictly illegal. The irony.  
  
The one year anniversary of them moving to Boston didn’t pass quietly. Matty declared it was time to celebrate, so they did. Taylor’s only argument was that he needed to dress Brian. As beautiful as Brian was, he was equally as hopeless when it came to fashion sense. Taylor thought it was a little ironic that Brian looked like he would naturally be King of Abercrombie Land, but actually shopped at K-Mart like it was going out of style.  
  
On the night out, he walked close at Brian’s side. Their arms and hands occasionally touching as they moved along the sidewalk. Brian turned heads wherever he went. Left and right, heads swiveled to get a look at the man who looked more like a movie star than a mere human.  
  
Matty was leading them out that night, using the recommendations of some of his classmates to get them partying and smashed. The street they were on was the heart of the trendy district, but the fact remained: if you’d seen one trendy district, you’d seen them all. Lots of glittering lights, cafés, sidewalk tables, jazz acts and house music wafted out onto the street, and people hot and rich—young and those trying to be young--populated the area.  
  
On their right, a group of guys approached, looking like they were Brian’s Abercrombie-American Eagle-Hollister brethren, but even they had to recognize when someone else had them beat. Complete surfers from the sneakers to the blond hair. A few had their eyes locked on Brian like dogs to steak.  
  
Cool as always, Brian either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to care. Taylor clenched his jaw and knew that his eyes were going stony and cold. The next time their hands brushed he pulled Brian’s closer to his side.  
  
He looked back and caught a couple of the guys ogling Brian’s ass. One jacked brow was all it took to get them moving a lot faster with smiles gone from their faces. It was almost fun scaring the shit out of other people. He tossed his arm around Brian and earned a questioning look from him and a poorly disguised chuckle from Matty.  
  
Sometimes, it was necessary to be a little more direct. Taylor was grateful that Matty usually found someone to shack up with those nights, because he and Brian weren’t the least bit quiet when Taylor got riled up.

* * *

  
He liked those nights when it was just he and Brian in the apartment. Just lazing and resting. No need to worry about Matty, because he was out doing his thing. Sometimes, there was sex. Other times, they just laid there—Brian stretched out over some part of Taylor, because Taylor liked it that way.  
  
Taylor rubbed his fingers through Brian’s hair, letting his fingers snap through the soft curls, listening as Brian described his dream car or something he'd done in the shop. These lazy tangents Taylor liked to listen to, mostly because of the passion that filled Brian’s voice as he spoke. Similar to sounds he only heard when they had sex.

Taylor wasn’t a genuine conversationalist, yet he made sure to say the important things, like l _ove you_ now and then. It exited his lips and continued to lay there in silence. He almost believed that Brian was sleeping until he shifted on the bed and moved to sit up in order to look at Taylor.

He seemed to sober up now as he focused on Taylor. "I love you, too." And Taylor reached for him and pulled him into a kiss that rolled on until they needed air.  
  
There were things on Taylor's mind, just regular conversation makers that didn’t pass through his lips. But of course, it was the things that came completely out of left field that held the greatest amount of truth. He pulled Brian close again and asked, “You wanna get married?”  
  
Brian stared down into Taylor’s face, cocked his head to the side, and tried to hold the edge on his smile. He wasn’t quite sure if Taylor was serious or not, which was very weird, because Taylor generally didn’t joke often.  
  
“Are you serious?” Brian questioned him, still smiling though bemused.  
  
Taylor sat up on his elbows. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
“‘Cuz you and me--” Brian wagged his finger between them. “Guys like you. and me…”  
  
“What does that mean?” Taylor asked in kind, sitting up just as Brian had. “Like I asked before, why wouldn’t I be serious?” He wasn’t going to ask if Brian’s reluctance had anything to do with what he’d done before; that was the past and like all bad things laid to rest should stay that way.  
  
Brian rubbed his forehead. He didn’t want to get into an argument with Taylor. “Just saying I wouldn’t expect this from you. Maybe that’s the best way to put it.”  
  
Taylor cast his arms over his knees and maintained focus on Brian. “I’m not trying to be overly fruity about this. Not saying call the fuckin' Advocate and take out a full page spread or some shit-- just this is the way I was raised, y'know, taught. You love someone you make a commitment to them.” He ducked his head, eyes downcast on the bedspread, while his hand scrubbed his head in frustration.  
  
Talking like this was hard. He hoped Brian knew just how much he made Taylor want to step out of his comfort zone just for him.  
  
Brian rapped his knuckles on Taylor’s star. “I’m with you.” He stated.  
  
Taylor gave him a sidelong glance. “A year and a half sleeping together and you left the City for me.” He turned a pearly smirk on Brian. It was the type of look that could melt diamonds from sheer heat. “The last part by itself is enough to make me worried someone else might snatch you up.”  
  
Brian sighed.“Nothing’s ever been concrete like this before. It’s all just been quarter miles. Short loops that got me nowhere.” Taylor knew all about those. The way Brian described racing in L.A. was like the stuff of fairy tales. At times, L.A. seemed like this magical place where cars flew and families were a little like his, those of your making.  
  
Looking away, Brian continued, “My life hasn’t really been about permanent fixtures. Maybe I’m being chickenshit, cuz I don’t wanna jinx it...You know, a good thing. I never had expectations in this.”  
  
“Well, here's a type of expectation. I asked for a reason. You wanna move past the quarter of a mile thing into something more permanent. I’m here.” Taylor would take Brian in any way he could.  
  
Taylor liked the fact that Brian wasn’t afraid of touching him, of wrapping his fingers around arm, stroking his tattoo, or gripping Taylor like he meant to keep him there. “I know. ”  
  
They let the conversation drop for the moment. Instead of lapsing into a silence, Taylor asked Brian to tell him about his dream car again. He’d heard about the car enough times to fall a little in lust with the car, too. Brian had just begun the description of the wheels, when Taylor’s phone rang. Only three people had his number. One was in bed with him. Another had his keys jingling in the front door. That left…  
  
“Hey Ma.” Taylor had taken Benny's advice about contacting his mother after his drop-in.  
  
“Hello, my son.” His mother drawled sweetly. Taylor could easily imagine the lit cigarette that hung from the corner of her mouth as she talked to him.  
  
The weekly phone call had already transpired early in the week. Brian signaled that he was headed to the shower, which was an effort to give Taylor a bit of privacy.  
  
“How’s everything?”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“How’s Matty and the SO?”  
  
“Matty’s good. I just asked the SO to marry me?”  
  
There was a pause on the other end. “I need a name.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I.Need.A.Name. I can’t keep saying ‘S.O.’, now can I? It’s kinda  weird, Taylor. I raised you better than that.” He hesitated. “Taylor.” She said his name in that no nonsense kind of way that would not allow him to do contrary to whatever she was demanding of him. “Now.” He could feel the guilt streaming through the phone.  
  
His eyes flickered to Brian, who looked mildly amused. “B.”  
  
“B? B as in what?”  
  
He took a breath. He was not afraid of his mother. Not in the least, though he hesitated in telling her. “Brian.”  
  
This was that clichéd moment he hoped he’d never face with his mother. Therefore, he’d always kept his mouth shut. He waited. “Brian better say ‘yes’ or I’ll have to come up there and kick _his_ blond ass.” She stressed the _his_ ’ part of her threat.  
  
“I’ll let him know.”  
  
“Good. Now, let me tell you what I heard from Mrs. Costello--” His mother delivered all the old news of the neighborhood with accuracy that the Post would admire.  
  
Taylor hung up the phone and waited for Brian to come out of the shower before recounting much of his conversation with his mother.  
  
Brian was extremely amused, but dare not say more, less Mrs. Reese come up to Boston and fulfill her promise. “Your mother has basically given us her blessing and threatened to kick my ass…That’s kinda scary but cool.” Brian never talked about his own mother or life back in Arizona and California. Taylor respected his reticence about the subject and didn’t push.  
  
“I’ll protect you.” Taylor teased with a straight face. “So? You gonna give her a reason to come at you or what?”  
  
“What else is there to say?”  
  
Taylor watched Brian slid into bed beside him. “Yes,” Taylor said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
“Okay, yes.” Brian answered. "And for the record, I'm not scared of your mom like you're not scared of your mom."

Taylor shut Brian up with kiss and busy hands that were undeterred by the towel around his hips.  
  
Taylor figured what really attracted him to Brian was the fact that he could sense that Brian was also a knockaround guy. It was the type thing that you didn’t necessarily choose, but what came after was entirely by choice.

He figured life before this—pre-Brian was like doing a quarter mile on a short track as Brian said. Life just came and went with each start and stop. Sometimes, a jump start was all you needed. He didn’t ever think he’d slow down again.


End file.
